Call and Response
by CatMagus13
Summary: Hermione Granger/Minerva McGonagall story. Late night visit leads to interesting revelations about a spell gone awry. Chapter 2 UP.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer = All owned by Miss Rowling, the Queen of Potter, and richest author in the universe...blah,blah,blah. She wouldn't write the below. Trust me on this one._ Really._

Minerva McGonagall and Hermione Granger same-sex pairing. Sorry if they're OOC: I don't usually write Potterfic, and it's my first time with these two, even if I do read HGMM stories. Mature (but I tried to be tasteful) and NSFW. Inspired in part by **tanithw**'s "In Exile". Transformation fic of sorts; this stuff is definitely an acquired taste, so you have been cautioned/warned/given the opportunity to leave now while you still can.

Unrepentantly un-Beta'd. Carefully spell-checked.

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><p><em>"Call and Response"<em>

A muffled knock on the thick wood of her office door broke Minerva McGonagall's concentration as she was midway through her marking of the last of the sixth year Transfiguration essays. A glance at the tall grandfather clock in the corner told her that it was past curfew and with a frown the witch dropped her quill into the ink well, stood up and walked over to see who could be calling at this hour on a Friday.

"Miss Granger," she said, dark eyebrows knitting together as she gazed at the young woman who had knocked; one of the two students in the school who's duties allowed them to be wander the corridors at this time of night.. "Rather late to be out, isn't it?"

"Professor." The Head Girl's face was faintly pink, and her expression could only be described as one of pain. "I'm sorry for bothering you at this time of night, but I didn't know who else to come to...and...and I..."

The elder witch moved a step closer to the unexpected visitor; all irritation vanished, replaced instead with concern.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, tilting her student's chin with a long finger so that large brown eyes met her own green ones. "You seem upset."

To Minerva's surprise, bright tears began to fall down Hermione's flushed cheeks almost at once. Hurriedly, the young woman knuckled them away with a clenched fist, glancing left and right at the empty hall before gazing up at her teacher.

"Some...something's happened." Even Hermione's voice sounded on the verge of panic. "I don't quite understand why or how...please let me in. I'll...I'll show you."

Bemused, the dark-haired professor let the young woman pass by her into the office and shut the door behind her. It was unlike the Head Girl to be this emotional and frankly, quite worrying. She hoped it wasn't because of a boy – Ronald Weasley and Hermione had broken up rather messily at the beginning of the school year and it only now, almost three months later that the witch was finally returned to normal.

To the Headmistress's shock, as soon as she was inside the room, Hermione tore her school tie from her neck, dropped it and her black robes onto the floor and began to unbutton her blouse with trembling fingers.

"Miss Granger, what are you...?" Minerva began to say, only to have the rest of the words die in her throat as Hermione turned back around to face her and she saw what lay beneath her student's clothing; the reason for the young woman's worry becoming instantly clear.

Where smooth pale skin should have been, soft creamy fur now grew, starting just below the collar of Hermione's shirt and continuing down under the brunette's bra to smoothly descend further below her navel and out of sight under her dark skirt.

The professor's mouth formed a silent 'O'.

"Hermione...how." she felt her voice falter, and tried again. "How extensive is..."

"It started an hour ago." Hermione looked absolutely miserable. "I thought it was just itching before, but then I looked and...it was this. It began...lower down." She indicated her pelvic region with a hand, clearly embarrassed by even having to point. "I really don't know why, or how it started. It's..." the young witch choked back a sob, almost at the point of being unable to speak. "...It's getting worse."

"Shhhh."

The Headmistress moved closer and gathered her student up into long arms to calm her, ignoring the fact that Hermione was dressed only in her bra and an unbuttoned shirt and the boundary between teacher and student was in serious danger of being breached at this proximity, even if it was for a perfectly innocent reason. The brunette clung to Minerva's slender waist like a lifeline, burying her face in the woman's silk robes, still sniffling.

"We will find a way to reverse the spell, do not worry." Minerva assured her, rubbing Hermione's back, mentally running through the possibilities of how this could have happened to the young woman. A poorly cast jinx would have worn off almost immediately; this was a more powerful transfiguration spell of some kind, and beyond the skill level of most of the students in the school. A potion, perhaps, indeed – Hermione had suffered a similar transformation during her early years at Hogwarts. A relapse after all these years? Unlikely, but not impossible. "Madame Pomfrey managed to restore you the last time; I see no reason why it should be any different now."

Her student sighed into her neck, evidently reassured by her teacher's words judging from the slowing by the rise and fall of her chest that had until this time heaved with ill-contained tears.

It was quite nice really, Minerva thought to herself absently; this warm thing in her arms, the pleasure of another feline next to her – she would have recognized the fur from a mile away, even if she hadn't been able to smell the familiar scent of a cat on Hermione's skin at this close distance. Minerva had complete control of her animagus instincts – she had spent a great deal of time on her change and successfully separated that side of her psyche from her human one – but this was a rare occasion where her animagus's nature was...stimulated, for lack of a better term.

Minerva frowned as she explored this realization more deeply.

_Arousal?_

Deciding that for cautionary purposes it was best to cut this embrace off as soon as possible, she drew back and raised her hands to cup Hermione's chin. She wasn't entirely surprised to see that her student's brown eyes were darker; her pupils had grown larger even with the ample light from the fire. A quick glance down at the brunette's chest under the opened blouse confirmed she wasn't the only one having problems. The office was not cold, so the clearly visible nipples through Hermione's bra could only mean one thing.

"Miss Granger," she said in a throaty voice. "I should take you to the Hospital Wing; Madame Pomfrey will be able to treat you for whatever caused this...change."

Almost unaware that she was doing it, her hand drifted up to caress Hermione's cheek as she spoke this last word. The younger woman turned her head slightly so that she pressed her lips into the center of Minerva's palm with the faintest pressure. Soft bristles were poking from her upper lip, signalling what was undoubtedly the start of whiskers.

It was a catalyst; the tall witch felt her control slipping away at this seemingly innocent kiss. Her body was roaring to life, her humanity fast losing the fight against the normally well-behaved feline side which had gone from kitten-like docility to leonine eagerness in under a minute.

"Hermione...you...need to leave." Minerva's voice sounded distant even to her, a terrible feeling of doom beginning to take hold of her. Nothing good could possibly come of this. Hermione was a student – _her _student – and even if she was of age, the young woman had never shown an interest in her own gender before now and...and the hand stroking her ribs felt much, much more delightful that it should have.

"Professor..." the seventh year's voice was soft; the same hand trailing slowly downwards to settle on her teacher's hip, gazing up at the Headmistress's face in dazed wonderment. "What's happening? Why do I feel...?"

If what Hermione Granger was feeling was anything like what Minerva was feeling, she couldn't blame her for being confused. Whatever change was happening in the brunette's body was not leaving her hormones alone; Minerva hadn't been this turned on in years, and she had a fairly good idea why.

Her left hand had somehow disappeared into Hermione's mass of thick brown hair, long fingers wrapping up in the heavy strands. Minerva's mind had gone blank as the overwhelming feeling of arousal from this fellow feline dominated her being, igniting a primal passion that she hadn't believed herself capable of.

"I believe a...response of my...animagus..." she managed to whisper before her animagus crushed the last vestiges of mental resistance, her self-control completely sailed out the nearest window and her lips crashed against Hermione's plump ones with a raw moan of desire. Her student was just as, if not more eager, and the pair stumbled across the room to the sofa near the fire and fell into it, still attached at the lips.

Hermione cried out as a slender hand stroked down her lightly furred stomach.

"You like that, Miss Granger?" Minerva whispered huskily into the young woman's pointed ear. She had never felt warmer than she did right then, her skin burning under her robes with an almost unbearable heat.

"Mmmm," the young witch purred out into her shoulder. The changes affecting Hermione's body had not slowed; if anything, her appearance was becoming less human by the minute. Long hairs had begun to grow at her jaw, the beginning of a cheek ruff. Her hands were different too; the older woman hissed in pain when Hermione wrapped her arms around her shoulders and what were most certainly claws broke the skin of Minerva's back through her thin robes

"Gently," she murmured out into Hermione's hair.

The younger woman seemed to have not heard the professor cry out, too preoccupied with lapping at her long neck, eyes half lidded as she settled into a grooming motion. She had whiskers now; the long bristles tickling Minerva's skin as Hermione pushed open the front of her teacher's dark green robes so that she could reach more warm skin with her luscious red mouth. The elder witch arched her head back in pleasure, hands drifting down either side of her student's body until they reached her rounded hips. Her fingers splayed out to cover Hermione's shapely rear end only to stop abruptly as they encountered an unexpected addition to the brunette's rump.

A wordless spell split the seams of one side of the Head Girl's skirt and Minerva slipped it off, dropping the garment carelessly on the floor to join the blouse that she had removed only a minute before.

Impossibly soft, faintly spotted brown fur now covered much of the nineteen-year old's back, but that was not what had drawn the elder witch's attention, rather the three-and-a-half foot-long feline tail Hermione's spine had extended into unnoticed by either of them; the fluffy tip raised and twitching in aroused excitement.

Bright green eyes sparkled.

"My dear, you appear to have a ..."

Whatever else Minerva had been going to say was cut off with a heartfelt moan of pure pleasure. Hermione had managed to undo the fastenings of her robes enough to suckle on her teacher's left breast; a wicked and surprisingly rough tongue circling her sensitive nipple. The slender woman's back arched reflexively as a hot gush of familiar warmth filled the lowest part of her abdomen between her legs, and she clutched hard at Hermione's hips, her own nails digging into her student's skin.

"Please, Professor," the brunette mewled out. Darker fur had begun to trail down the outside of her shapely thighs while creamy soft hair continued down the inside from under the crotch of her panties. Her feet had changed too – the thick dark pads on her soles were too heavy to be simply calluses, the toes larger, the ankles slimmer.

Unable to help herself, Minerva pulled the younger woman up and kissed her soundly, revelling in the feeling of her student's luxuriously soft fur against the skin of her own bared chest as their bodies pressed together. Pale hairs had started to sprout on Hermione's chin, travelling down to form a fluffy puff of white on her chest and neck, spreading smoothly to a pelt of darker fur across her shoulders. The beginnings of a muzzle shaped her student's nose and mouth into an increasing feline form, matching the cat-like ears that were canted back in obvious pleasure against Hermione's skull.

Minerva's animagus-clouded mind had never seen a more lovely sight.

"You are beautiful, Miss Granger." she breathed out, gazing into almond-shaped eyes, the irises of which were now lightening to a golden tint.

The young witch purred in response, kissing the older woman's lips again with a more tender touch before moving down off the sofa so that she knelt in front of Minerva. She picked up her teacher's wand from the low table beside them and whispered a spell that banished the Transfiguration professor's robes to a nearby chair, leaving Minerva clad only in a half-open white tunic and panties, her flushed expanse of pale skin exposed. The lower garment was slipped off by the brunette not five seconds later, and pushing the taller woman's long legs apart with faintly paw-like hands, carefully avoiding snagging her with her new claws, Hermione leaned in with a hungry look on her face.

The Headmistress could only watch in silent astonishment, her heart pounding like a drum. She felt utterly powerless against...whatever this instinct was that was driving her animagus to...

"_Ah!"_

The brunette's rough tongue had lapped at the slick area once, almost experimentally, and Minerva's hips rose off the sofa with a jerk. Another lick, this time a little to the left, elicited a strangled sound that told Hermione she had found the right spot.

A third upwards stroke to the same place threw Minerva's head back.

A fourth jerked it to the right.

"Hermione," she gasped, clutching at the seat cushions with white knuckled fists.

The whiskers tickled her tensed inner thighs as a wonderful warm tongue lapped at that perfect spot again.

"Oh...yes." she purred out, eyes shutting tightly, slim legs spreading even wider, her toes curling into the carpet.

Again.

And again.

_And again._

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><p>When Minerva next opened her eyes, the last tremors having subsided and an overwhelming feeling of exhausted but sated pleasure filling her being, she was in for a shock.<p>

Hermione Granger was sitting on the carpet cross-legged, wearing a bra, panties, and a very satisfied smile. The brunette's hair was quite mussed, but otherwise she was her normal, tail-free, de-whiskered and very human self.

Minerva stared down at her student in disbelief.

"Hermione...how?" she managed to choke out when she finally found her voice again.

"A Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product that I agreed to test for George. A customized charm that 'guarantees a scintillating encounter or your money back', or at least that's what it says on the cardboard box that he sent me this morning by owl. A present in return for a bit of help that I gave him last summer."

"But..."

The Head Girl gave a soft smile and stood up gracefully to close the distance between them, moving one bare leg across the slim woman's lap so that she straddled her on the sofa. Leaning in even closer, Hermione dropped a gentle kiss at the corner of her astonished teacher's mouth.

"Clever bit of magic to use your animagus traits against you –" she murmured. "I'll have to congratulate him; I wouldn't have ever thought of that. I'm glad to have been wrong, though – I've wanted to do this for years...with you, I mean. And that way was quite...sensual, don't you think?"

For once in her life, Minerva McGonagall was struck speechless. This lack of verbal response did not seem to bother the brunette at all, and she moved her right hand up to stroke the other woman's face.

"Now. I do believe that we have some unfinished business_, Professor_." she whispered into Minerva's ear, her fingers drifting along the delicate jaw line, smiling as the woman shuddered at the touch. "You've had your turn..."

"What?" came the breathy reply.

Hermione's hands had moved into the witch's hair, one set of fingernails running in soft lines across Minerva's scalp as the other hand slowly removed the pins holding up her teacher's bun one at a time until the long dark locks tumbled down over naked shoulders. She encountered no resistance at all.

"I do have_ one_ question, Professor."

Hermione's lips had curved into a sly smile. At that moment she looked even more feline that she had with fur and a muzzle; her face the very picture of a 'cat that ate the canary' look.

"Mmm?" The elder woman was clearly distracted, her emerald eyes half-lidded with pleasure as her hair was stroked smooth.

"Are you able to _partially _change into your animagus?" Hermione had moved lower to nuzzle Minerva tenderly under her chin, lips trailing down the elegant throat before she continued with a whispered; "Fair is fair after all, and I bet you would look wonderful with a few..._additions_."

Her hands had dropped down below her teacher's long back, slipping down to caress the area in question.

There was a pause;

"Shall we have a practical demonstration, Miss Granger?" Minerva purred lowly before meeting smiling lips with her own, already starting to lengthen her own tailbone under her student's eager fingers, soft silver hairs growing across her pale skin.

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><p><em>AN: Awesomesauce with a cherry on top. Now I've got that out of my system, I can continue on with my life.<em> _I welcome any and all reviews, even if it's a short 'Eew' or 'Yum' or 'Die in Satan's realm you twisted bitch and pass me some brain bleach' from an anonymous reader . I've disabled the profanity filter so be as creative as you'd like with your insults. Have at 'er. _


	2. Chapter 2

_I hadn't intended to continue this, but __people suggested that Hermione came off as a little manipulative in the first chapter, so perhaps I can redeem her a little with her side of the story. _

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><p>It had all started at 7:30 on a Tuesday morning when the delivery owl swooped down from the open window at the front of the Great Hall and dropped the small package so that it fell onto the Gryffindor table in front of Hermione, narrowly missing her plate of bacon and eggs and making the first year sitting opposite her shriek in surprise.<p>

Frowning, Hermione picked up the parcel with her free hand. 'Do not open in G.H.' was written across the brown paper in unexpectedly familiar block letters and she realized instantly _what_ this was. Glacing around, Hermione had slipped the small parcel into her book bag and finished eating her toast before retreating to her private quarters in the twenty-odd minutes before the first bell for classes rang.

Back in the Head Girl's rooms, Hermione cautiously opened the twine-sealed wrapping, uncertain of its contents, not having expected George to have come up with a solution to her problem so soon. To her surprise, inside it was a piece of parchment with a few lines of instructions and, inside a smaller wooden box; a small glass vial containing an intensely purple liquid. Hermione's heart jumped when she scanned the directions, and after a second read through, she tossed the small scoll up in the air and it vanished in a puff of flame. After hiding the potion under her bed and putting a simple concealment charm on it, Hermione rushed off to Astronomy, wondering how and, more importantly,_ when_ she could use the gift without detection.

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><p>It was almost a week and a half later that she was able to drank the vial's contents. Ginny and Harry had plans in Hogsmeade, Ron had a 'study-break' in the Library with Lavender Brown, and there were no Prefect or Head meetings or duties that evening. Hermione had almost thrown out the potion earlier that day, having had serious second thoughts about the implications of what she was about to do, but her desperation won out in the end. George hadn't specified <em>how<em> his creation would achieve what he had promised, only that it would be an hour or so before the effects became noticeable. The uncertainty was not reassuring.

Initially she had thought that the prickling sensation under her clothes was an unwanted side-effect of the potion and had continued to work on her essay for Professor Sprout. To her dismay, the itching only intensified and ten agonizing minutes later, she finally pulled her skirt down and peeked beneath her underwear, uttering a cry of dismay when she saw that familar brown curls at the juncture of her thighs had been replaced by soft, impossibly fine hairs.

Five minutes and a rush of wand-waving and muttered spells later, the pale fur was still creeping up her midline, soon reaching her navel and – to Hermione's horror – seemed to be growing at a greater speed that before. This was enough to make the Head Girl grab her school robes and rush out the door, wondering what she had done to herself and why George hadn't been more careful with his silly inventions.

She could have sworn that Crookshanks had rolled his eyes as she rushed out of her room.

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><p>Minerva McGonagall had looked quite annoyed when she opened her office door at the brunette's panicked knock, but the woman's cross expression had evaporated when she saw who it was, quickly turning to concern when Hermione began to cry. Half a minute later, they were both standing in front of the fire place inside the office and the Head of Gryffindor was staring in shock at her student's now well-furred torso – the cream-colored hairs thick and soft across Hermione's breasts and running up almost to her throat.<p>

Hermione had choked out some excuse, her mind too busy wondering whether this would be a permanent change to really concentrate on creating passable reasons for this slow and terrifying transformation into a cat. The last time this had happened - caused by contaminated Polyjuice - it had taken weeks for her to return to normal.

"We will find a way to reverse the spell, do not worry," Minerva had said, pulling the young witch into a hug.

It was the first time that the woman had hugged her, the first time that she had ever physically crossed the teacher-student barrier in all the years that Hermione had known her. The embrace was warm and soft and it felt wonderful when the elder woman ran her hands down her bare back in gentle calming circles. Hermione's head fit perfectly in the hollow of Minerva's neck, and the woman's chin rested lightly on the part in her hair. Never had Hermione felt so safe in someone's arms, so reassured that everything would be all right in the end.

Once her sniffling had died down, a slim hand drew her eyes up to meet intense green ones and a wave of pleasure rushed down Hermione's spine as she saw that the woman was not entirely unaffected by their closeness.

And just like that, all the pieces fell into place and the panicked feeling that had threatened to rise up again fizzled out like a snuffed candle.

This was George's fault.

George _Fucking _Weasley, that too-clever- by-half, red-haired _smart-arse_ had _known_ that the Transfiguration teacher's animagus form was not entirely under her control. He had realized that the woman would respond to a certain stimulus, that there was one thing that could neatly slice through Minerva McGonagall's iron-clad self control like a hot knife through butter.

All fear had vanished with this spark of insight because _it all made sense now. _To tap into the hidden animagus instincts, some physical change was necessary; biochemical alterations to produce pheromones. An irresistable, if temporary, attraction could be created. George had found a creative solution to the problem that she had tearfully confessed to over the winter holidays only a few weeks earlier. There were inconveniant side-effects because he hadn't known how much change would be necessary to tip the scales against Minerva's self control.

This was all happening as it was supposed to.

"Miss Granger," the older woman's voice was a throaty rumble, and if Hermione hadn't been certain already, the husky timbre would have told her everything she needed to know about the struggle behind the seemingly impassive visage. "I should take you to the Hospital Wing; Madame Pomfrey will be able to treat you for whatever caused this...change."

Without thinking, Hermione turned her head to kiss her teacher's palm as it caressed her cheek, conveying the degree of love she felt for Minerva. Her upper lip tingled as – was it whiskers? – brushed against the other woman's skin.

"Hermione..you...need to leave."

The raw_ need_ in the half-lidded green eyes betrayed the voice.

"Professor..." Hermione murmured absently as she gazed up at her mentor, memorizing all the minute expressions that flickered across Minerva's fine features as the struggle to fight the inevitable wound down to an obvious conclusion. She let her hand slowly slide down the slim waist to settle on the woman's hip. "What's happening? Why do I feel...?"

Hermione had mispoke, but couldn't bring herself to correct the words that had escaped her lips because they _were _partially true. _Why do I feel like you are the only one I have ever wanted? Victor didn't work. Ron didn't work, and I tried so hard to love him. I'll probably never forgive myself for this but I had to try, at any cost. I have to _know_._

She knew that it was wrong to continue the facade: Hermione had come to the woman for help with what she had perceived to be a very real problem, and now that she knew what it was, the right thing to do would be to tell her teacher. Explain what had happened. Stop whatever it was that was _about_ to occur. Put aside her own feelings, her own needs, and do the right thing.

She opened her mouth to speak.

And that was the exact moment that long fingers tangled into her hair and Hermione knew that she had finally got her dearest wish after all these years of waiting.

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><p>Minerva McGonagall was a much better kisser than Victor, Cormac or Ron. She tasted of sweet tea, with a hint of spice that might have been ginger, and as Hermione fell with the elder witch onto the sofa by the fire, she had decided that she never wanted to kiss another person unless it was the woman beneath her.<p>

The changes to her own body continued, but Hermione paid no attention, no longer afraid and too absorbed in undoing the fasteners of her teacher's robes, arching her back with pleasure when hands kneaded her rear. She was rewarded by bare flesh and sucked at the dusky pink nipple hungrily, lapping around it to sooth, pulling at it again. This suckling caused the woman beneath her let out a passionate moan and nails dug into her thighs as Minerva tensed.

"Please, Professor." Hermione gasped, sounding more shrill than her usual self, although whether she was asking for the painful grip to be released or for something else, she had no clear idea. The dark-haired witch drew Hermione up from her chest to kiss her with even more intensity than before, seemingly wanting to convey the degree of need that she was struggling with.

"You are beautiful, Miss Granger." Minerva's voice was a breathy whisper, and her clear green eyes were so filled with desire that Hermione couldn't help but smile. A rumbling purr of satisfaction issued deep in Hermione's chest and she touched the woman's reddened lips with her own one last time before sliding off of the sofa to pick up the wand that was set on the wooden table nearby and vanish her teacher's robes so that they were folded up neatly on the lone chair at the other side of the room.

Her heart nearly stopped at the sight.

Without her robes the woman was slender and long-limbed and very pale. Had Hermione not known better, she might have called the Headmistress 'fragile'; what with the slim wrists and ankles and overall angularity of the witch's figure. The wtich was incredibly beautiful, and her attractiveness was only made more apparent by the uncharacteristicly lustful expression on her face.

Pressure from Hermione's hands – hands that were now looking very much like feline paws what with the leathery pads and thin coat of fur over the backs – spread the seated woman's legs apart and the younger witch leaned forward with half-lidded eyes to the source of the heavenly scent.

Minerva came quietly; her teeth grit together, a soft hiss eschewing from her lips as muscles tensed and relaxed. Pleased that she had done what was obviously an excellent job on this unusual practical assignment, Hermione rolled back onto her heels, only to discover that she was no longer digitade; her skin returned to its regular smoothness, her spine its usual length.

Once she had recovered, the Headmistress looked quite stunned to see Hermione back to her regular unchanged self and Hermione quickly took initiative before the surprise turned to dismay at what had just happened or worse – anger. She approached with hither-to unknown confidence, unpinned the last physical piece of cool reserve, winding her fingers into the dark locks until they fell down over slim shoulders.

An explanation.

An invitation.

A request.

To her surprise, Minerva accepted all three.

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><p>Two minutes later, Hermione had learned that the Headmistress of Hogwarts was deceptively flexible, and that rolling around on a wool rug without any clothing was a surefire way to get carpet burn.<p>

A gentle nip at her neck reminded her that her mind should be on other matters.

"Mmminervaa," she groaned.

Nails stroked a delicious path down her ribs, massaging the flesh of her waist as a warm mouth enveloped her right nipple.

"More." A whisper this time, eyes closing with pleasure, neck arching back. "Please..."

A throaty laugh greeted this demand.

"Begging already? Miss Granger, I've hardly begun!"

That voice was mesmerizing. So rich and compelling. So...

_Sensitive. _Hermione bucked her hips involuntarily as a hand swept down to caress her inner thigh.

"You cannot possibly believe how wonderful you smell, my dear. Truly _delicious_."

The mood was almost broken by Hermione's innate inquisitiveness.

"How is it that you are able to control the merging between your animagus form and your regular one? I would have thought it to be quite difficult, if not impossible, from a structural standpoint."

"There are..." Minerva purred out against her ribs, continuing her way down the young woman's body, "..._advantages_...to holding a Transfiguration mastery."

"And the increase in the your sensory abilities?" the brunette pressed, wanting to know more.

"A varient of Moglem's compartmentalization theories unique to animagi that we shall discuss..." Minerva paused to kiss the skin of Hermione's hip before, long dark hair spilling silkily across Hermione's thighs, "...at another time."

"But..." Hermione asked, raising her head up from the floor, quite interested now.

"Hush."

If the younger witch had any other questions, they were lost as her powers of speech diminished into baser sounds of pleasure as Minerva made very good use of her tongue.

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><p>It was a sunny Monday afternoon and the Transfigurations seventh year class was working on their assignment of the week. Ron had not been paying attention for the previous five classes – too wrapped up in his rekindled affections for Lavender - and was becoming quite irate that Hermione wasn't sharing her knowledge as freely as she might.<p>

Professor McGonagall had descended from her desk at the front of the room and set him straight on her expectations of a seventh year student in her class.

Sending one last frown at a chastened Ron as he turned sulkily back to his own work, the Transfigurations professor moved over to the student he had been bothering. She leaned down to whisper in Hermione's ear, pitching her voice so that none of the other students sitting at the desks nearby could hear.

"Behave, Miss Granger," Minerva breathed out, "Or you shall find yourself wearing a collar around that lovely neck of yours."

Hermione was unable to contain her whimper at that mental image and the teacher's green eyes became even brighter at the sound.

"You would enjoy that, my dear?" Minerva clicked her tongue softly in disapproval. "Well then; a lesson in discipline seems to be needed…"

A weight suddenly settled around Hermione's neck. Bringing her left hand up to her throat, she found a narrow circle of what felt like thick leather, hidden from sight by her robes and shirt.

"I shall expect you at nine o'clock in my office, dressed as you are." came the murmur in her ear. "I do recommend that you be punctual."

Minerva had returned to her desk and begun to mark papers before Hermione remembered how to breathe again.

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><p><em>AN: Does that provide a more sympathetic view of Hermione's actions in Chapter 1?<em>

_I accept signed reviews. I accept anonymous reviews. I also accept creatively vile epithets from disgusted anonymous readers: some variety is a good thing in life, don't you think? I would also love to know what you thought could be improved on in future fics._


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